Fragments
by tinuelena
Summary: Five K/S drabbles. From fluffy to angsty and in-between.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This was done as a challenge.

The premise:

--Pick a pairing

--Play five songs & write a drabble inspired by each song.

I put my K/S playlist on random, and here we are.

xx

**#1-- Paralyzer—Finger Eleven**

Kirk had to look three times.

He could barely believe his eyes but, sure enough, his first officer was perched on a stool at the end of the bar.

It seemed like ages ago, thought Kirk, that he'd been here trying to take Uhura home at this very bar. Ages ago that he'd taken on a group of four thick-necked Starfleet cadets who wanted to make mince meat out of an Iowa farm boy. Ages ago that he'd decided he really _did _have something to prove.

Kirk clutched his own glass in his hand, feeling a little less steady than usual. The night had been pretty shitty. He'd been looking forward to their leave, been looking forward to getting drunk and going home with some naïve local girl—but he just didn't feel that into it tonight.

He continued to stare at his first officer. It was hard to tell from so far away, but he didn't think Spock would be drinking alcohol, though, he remembered, Vulcans did make wine.

Then, Spock's head snapped up, and his eyes met Kirk's. Those Vulcan eyes burned into his from across the room, darker than the Andorian whiskey in his glass, harder-hitting than a Romulan's fist.

Briefly, he remembered the mind-meld with the alternate Spock on Delta Vega. He'd seen things, things the older Spock hadn't bothered to protect him from, and most of them involved a tangle of limbs and those fierce eyes. The knowledge that he and Spock had been _together_ in an alternate universe had haunted his dreams for years.

And now, he was beginning to see what his counterpart had fallen for.

_Fuck, _he thought, _if that stare is any indication… if _he _is that intense…_

He swallowed hard as his imagination ran to dark places. Places like the motel off the interstate. And, all of a sudden, he wanted nothing more than to make Spock writhe in ways he'd never imagined. He wanted to take him and strip him of all self-control. He wanted to take that emotionless façade and fuck it into submission.

Spock drained whatever he was drinking. And Kirk gripped his glass so tightly he thought it could break.

_Do it now,_ Kirk told himself, _do it before you lose your goddamn nerve._

The Vulcan rose from his bar stool.

Kirk set his glass down and set off in the direction of his first officer. "Spock," he began.

"Captain. I am going to retire for the night. It is only logical that I take my required sleep while we are on leave so I am free to relieve you of duties when we have returned to the _Enterprise_ and you require sleep_._"

And with a slight incline of his head, he left.


	2. Chapter 2

**#2-- The Planets Bend Between Us—Snow Patrol**

James T. Kirk had never thanked God for anything.

Today, he felt like singing his praises to the Colorado sun.

Deep in the woods, nestled into the side of a mountain, was a cozy little chalet he'd rented for the weekend. He lay in the bed, covered by a quilt. He'd never been in a more peaceful place.

But what made it perfect was the Vulcan in bed beside him.

Spock was utterly out of place in the middle of the Rocky Mountains; he'd never in his life experienced snow or cold, and he'd insisted upon turning the heat up as high as it would go. Jim had been walking around in boxers. Spock had cozied up to flannel pajamas.

As he watched his _t'hy'la _sleep, quilt pulled up to his chin, he couldn't think of anything more endearing.

Outside, snowflakes began to drift lazily through the sky. Gently, he shook Spock awake.

"Spock," he whispered. "Spock, it's snowing."

The Vulcan's eyes fluttered open and he gazed out the window. The look on his face was rapturous. "Jim," he said softly, "it's beautiful." He rose, almost as if he was being compelled by an outside force, and went to the window.

_This, _Jim thought, as Spock pressed his fingertips to the cold pane of glass. _This is the most endearing thing I've ever seen._


	3. Chapter 3

**#3-- Gravity—Sara Bareilles**

Spock sat at his console, staring straight ahead.

In the captain's chair, trying his best to hold it together, sat Jim Kirk. Uhura had just said something about a Klingon transmission, and Chekov was worried about some nearby black hole, but he couldn't pay any attention.

_Talk about emotionally compromised,_ he thought.

He'd played chess with his Vulcan first officer last night in Spock's quarters, and Spock had been uncharacteristically distracted. Kirk asked him what was wrong, and when Spock wouldn't tell him, he'd kept pressing—

—and then, finally, Spock's deep-seated emotions sprung to the surface. He'd fixed his fingers to Kirk's face, melded with him, and poured out two years' worth of highly illogical feelings in the matter of a minute.

After Kirk's initial shock, he'd wanted to talk, but Spock had been abrupt. _It does not matter what either of us feel. You are the captain of this starship. It would be against Starfleet regulations._ And he pushed Kirk out of his quarters.

Every atom of Kirk's body now wanted to scream at Spock. _Fuck Starfleet regulation! God damn it, don't you see I've been driving myself crazy over this exact same thing since you walked onto the bridge two years ago and asked to be my first officer?_ _I'll resign my commission. Uhura can take over the ship. I—_

He turned to look at Spock. Briefly, Spock met his gaze.

Kirk sighed.

_I _need_ you._


	4. Chapter 4

**#4-- The Beginning is the End is the Beginning—Smashing Pumpkins**

"This is the end." Kirk's voice was steady. "I can't believe we're going to die like this."

"Technically, we will not die," Spock replied. They had barricaded themselves in Kirk's quarters. "The process of assimilation will not kill us. Only change us."

"We'll be as good as dead." He reflected on Chekov, stripped of his Russian accent and innocent smile, a cortical node bursting from his forehead, his skin gray. The thought made him shudder. "We won't be ourselves."

Spock hesitated. "Jim—while I am—still myself—I need to express something to you."

Kirk tilted his head. He'd never heard Spock use the word _express_ when referring to himself.

"My father," Spock began, "was wholly Vulcan, yet found himself capable of—falling in love with my mother."

"Spock," Kirk said, noticing the green blush upon his cheeks. "Spock, are you saying—"

"It is highly illogical," Spock admitted in a rush, "however, I can no longer ignore the fact that I trust and value you more than anyone."

"We could have had years," Kirk lamented. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

He lowered his gaze. "I have studied the dynamic of human relationships. I realize that a friendship can end if romantic feelings are admitted and not reciprocated."

Kirk impulsively grabbed his shoulders. "I would have reciprocated, Spock."

The amount of regret in Spock's oddly expressive eyes hit Kirk like a punch to the stomach. Outside, he could hear phaser fire in the corridors. "We don't have much time," he whispered.

Wordlessly, Spock sat down on the bed.

Kirk felt like crying. They wouldn't die, Spock was right. They'd probably end up as Five of Eight and Six of Eight, serving beside each other, unaware that this conversation had ever happened. Cold hatred surged up inside him, and he fervently wished that he could kill them all. _It's not fair._

Spock quietly removed his shirt, and Kirk followed suit. Hastily, they discarded their uniforms and clung tightly to each other, moving urgently, breathing hard.

"There are so many things to say," Kirk whispered in the middle of it all, his face flushed. "I wish we had more time. I wish—"

Spock put his fingers to Kirk's face. "Show me," he breathed, and closed his eyes.

Inside the meld, time stopped, and Kirk let go of all inhibitions, allowing his mind to deluge Spock with the reality and intensity of his feelings.

A Vulcan word floated into Kirk's consciousness. _T'hy'la._ He had no idea what the Terran translation would be, but the meaning was inescapable.

As Kirk reached his climax, Spock broke the meld.

Kirk collapsed onto the bed beside him and automatically snaked an arm around his waist. "Do you want—"

"I am not due for _pon farr_ for another three years," Spock replied quietly.

The noise in the hallway became louder. Dents appeared in the door.

"Spock, I just want you to know. If they ever figure out a way to free us—I'm not going to forget this."

The door opened, and two Borg drones entered. "We are the Borg," came the monotone voice of the first drone. "We will add your biological distinctiveness to our own. Resistance is futile."

Spock held tightly to his captain. "You have been, and always shall be—"

The drone pierced him with his assimilation tubule, and Spock fell silent.

Kirk reached for his phaser but, of course, nothing was there. "You son of a—"

And they were both gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**#5-- The Scientist—Coldplay**

"I'm sorry."

Kirk was utterly confused. "What for?"

Spock sighed. "Jim, there is much I haven't told you."

"Are you alright?"

Spock ushered Kirk into his quarters and pulled out a chair for his captain to sit in as he paced the room. "I have meditated on this for a long while, and I have concluded that I must—as the Terrans say—'get this off of my chest'."

"Okay…"

"I will be frank, Jim. You are aware, I know, that Vulcans have feelings, and that they are much stronger than Terran feelings."

"Yeah. I know that." He thought back to the first moment he realized it, on Delta Vega, after the meld with the alternate Spock.

"We are capable of love, Jim."

Kirk could do nothing but stare at his first officer.

"I have been going through somewhat of a crisis. My Vulcan upbringing rejected the notion of falling in love. This past year, I have attempted to explain away this feeling with logic, with science, with psychology. However, I cannot. It persists. And I can no longer afford to ignore it. _We_ can no longer afford to ignore it."

"But—Spock, this is the most _illogical _thing I've ever heard. You _love_ me?" The words felt foreign on his lips.

But they tasted delicious.

"My alternate self told me, some time ago, that I must ignore logic sometimes and do what _feels_ right."

Kirk didn't even know how to respond.

"I am rushing to conclusions," Spock realized. "Jim—do you—feel the same way about me?"

He couldn't escape it. "Yes," he whispered. "But, Spock. This is going to be impossible. You're the first officer. I'm the captain."

Spock approached him. "The way I understand it, the more one has to work for something, the more valued the end result becomes."

"Then this might just become the best thing that's ever happened to either of us."

Spock allowed himself a small smile. "For me, it already is."


End file.
